Let me take care of you
by Shipwreckangeloftheassbutt9800
Summary: After a fight that leaves Dean to walk out and Sam to wonder, A witch hunt is taken to a whole new level when Dean thinks he can take it on alone just to prove a point. Will Sam realize that Dean's protection is all he really needs? RATED M FOR MATURE CONTACT!


**~~~HEY GUYS! Hmm..Today feels like a Wincest day...SO HERE IT IS! This is a Sam and Fem!Dean story taking place during season 8! Some spoilers, nothing too drastic that would ruin anything though. He doesn't stay female the entire time I promise! Don't like, Don't read! M for reasons!~~~**

* * *

It's been said that silence has a mind of its own, that it whispers words of wisdom, words of distress, affection, or disappointment, to the ear that is caught by no other sound. The wind is known to be one of the greatest conductors to face the world, the best companion to be sucked by silence. Every gust sing's its own song, whether it be one of contempt or a child's lullaby. Then there are the lesser things, distractions that only cause confusion and mixed feelings towards whomever may be listening. The distortion of heavy rainfall created an echo similar to if living under a bomb shelter. Every last drop of water that hit the rooftop was one more excuse for a man to remain restless, a man that has forgotten what the meaning of self-indulgent was, if he ever knew in the first place. He heard everything, from the whistle of the wind's ghostly moans to the tapping of his brother's footsteps from the kitchen. Every tone that crossed paths with his thoughts reminded him of a memory from his tragic past. The flutter of angel wings, the crackling of fire which seemed to surround him like an endless ocean of disagreement and rejection. There was too much on his mind, which is why the aspect of relaxation wasn't something he was familiar with, not while he knew that each passing day may be his last.

The thin red blanket which covered his upper body wasn't enough to keep him warm, but Sam managed, just as he did with everything else. His head was rested against his forearms, feeling the heat from his feverish temperature against his ice cold skin like boiling water poured on ice. Tiresome wasn't even the start of the endless list of a plethora of things the youngest Winchester had encountered during his time of recalibration. The demonic substance infused into his blood stream was going through what Dean liked to call, God's personal carwash. Though, the agonizing pain that followed behind the cleansing process wasn't something Sam could handle for much longer. The pitter patter of the rain, mixed with the muffled rumbles of thunder were at the time, the most soothing sounds he has ever heard. It reminded him of his mother's reassuring voice, whispering sweet nothing's into his ear, telling him that everything was going to turn out alright. Sam finally shut his eyes, finding the courage to drift off at the table with his laptop still left on.

"Doesn't sound like the rain's gonna stop." Dean's extent of deep raspy words along with the shutting of the front door startled Sam awake. He quickly raised his head and cleared his throat, placing a few fingers against his keyboard to look as if he's been busy. The last thing Sam wanted was to show Dean that he was in pain, that he was suffering, because he knew how that would end. Dean ran a hand through his wet hair before peeling the dark navy blue jacket from his body and tossing it on the table in the other room. He wasn't oblivious, obviously. Dean knew that his brother was hiding under a thin layer of satisfactory to keep the disabilities away. But he didn't say a thing about it, he didn't need the extra weight to carry on top of everything he already had on his back.

When Sam didn't respond, Dean looked up at the ceiling as if trying to watch the rain through the concrete. There it was again, silence, peeling away at his flesh like acid. Oh how Dean hated it. He curled his lip in thought of how to break it, make some sort of extensive conversation to take their minds off of what they both knew the other was thinking about. Each other. Dean licked his bottom lip and clapped his hands together once, making Sam jump from the sudden vociferous action. But before the older Hunter could say a word to follow, Sam found his sociability.

"Did you talk to the landlord?"

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and walked down the few stairs that led into the drop-down room where Sam was sitting. "Yes. Luckily for me, the guy owned a bar." He smirked, pulling out the chair from across the table. Sam smiled to himself when hearing his brother's comment, keeping his eyes fixed on his bright screen. "And?"

Dean reached over to the small cooler beside the table, grabbing hold of one of the beer bottles. He used his bare hand to tear off the bottle cap with a 'pop'. "Turns out, there were six hex bags in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom." Dean took a long sip of his alcohol, sighing in content when removing the glass from his pink swollen lips. Sam tore his eyes from the computer screen and stared at his brother, not surprised by what he was told, since they've seen way worse than this.

"So...he murdered his own wife for what? Money?"

"Exactly." Dean set the beer bottle down against the hard cherry wood table. His elbows sat themselves cozy beside it as he leaned forward a bit. "She was rich, he's batshit crazy. Put the two together and you get the perfect murder."

"By being strangled to death?" The younger Winchester rose a brow, opening his web browser to do what he does best, research.

"By using demonic hoodoo to get the job done for him. But that isn't even the weird part. Remember how the landlord had those ugly weird spitting tobacco teeth and obnoxious hippie glasses? Kind of gross to look at? "

Sam cracked a side smile. The statement was mean, but true. "Yeah?"

"Well now he's the new Brad Pitt. It's like a dozen chiropractor fairies snuck into his bedroom and worked some miracle. "

"Sounds like witchcraft to me." Sam sighed a bit. He coughed once against his fisted back-hand, clearing his throat. His eyes roamed the laptop screen while reading something about the landlord, trying to put two and two together. Dean didn't take his eyes off of Sam, like he was trying to read through him without being noticed. Sam pressed the enter key on his keyboard, having found files of missing persons and recent deaths by suffocation. He squinted his eyes, as everything on the screen became blurry. "So...who do you think...made the- the deal?" Sam's words were struggled. He pressed his large palm against his forehead, sliding it down to pinch the bridge of his nose, and then rubs his temples. Dean quickly caught onto his strange behavior, narrowing his brows in concern, but didn't lose topic of the subject. "I dunno."

"Whoever it was, they must have offered the opportunity of a life tim-." The hunter's words were cut off by a sudden coughing fit. Sam covered his mouth, his head spinning from the overwhelming fever that wasn't going down. His chair skid back against the wooden floor when he stood, keeping his balance by holding himself up with a hand on the table. Dean rose from his seat seconds after, rushing to his brother's side, unsure of what to do. "Sammy!" He cupped Sam's shoulder in his palm, bending slightly to push his face only inches away from the other man's. All he could do was fold strands of hair behind Sam's ear to keep the long brown locks away from his face, giving him room to breathe. Though, panic struck him hard when that oh-so familiar crimson liquid spilt through the spaces between Sam's long fingers, dripping onto his feet. Dean's eyes widened in horror, his heart stopping at a half beat. He quickly took hold of the taller man's wrist, ripping his palm away from his lips to see how bad it was this time. When his hand was removed, the blood poured of his mouth and rolled off of his hand as if draining out a rag. Sam's eyes fell heavy, his body began to stumble back. Dean cupped his brother's face, shaking him slightly to keep him awake.

"Sam! Sammy stay with me! You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine, okay?" He gazed into his brother's hazy, glossy, tired eyes with terror in his own. But once Sam's head leaned forward in exhaustion, Dean knew it wasn't going to be much longer. Time was growing short, the air was getting thin, and the trials were killing him worse than any death before. Even slower. Every motivating sentence that Dean kept repeating was sounding further and further away… Sam couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, and soon enough, he couldn't hear a thing.

* * *

Five hours gone and passed, Dean has yet to leave his brother's side as the storm above them just kept on worsening. Sam was sweating as if he's been running a marathon in humid weather, yet his skin felt like touching the edge of a meat freezer. Silence filled the room, that white noise that seemed to be the cause of everything that came between them fluttered through the cracks of every door to welcome itself in. On the bright side, at least he was finally getting the sleep he desperately needed. Dean dipped the white washcloth into a bucket of ice water he had set on the nightstand, straining it out before dabbing it against Sam's forehead. The light rumble of thunder was all it took for those hazel tinted eyes to finally open. Sam had to adjust to the dim setting, but it didn't take the sick man long to make out the perfection of his older sibling's face. He took the time to count every freckle under Dean's jewel-like eyes and across the bridge of his perfectly sculpted nose. It was a moment of peace that didn't last more than what it was worth. More or less, the silence was uncomfortable.

"I thought I lost you there for a minute." Dean began, a small strained chuckle in his throat to keep himself from showing exactly how terrified he's been. It wasn't hard to tell. He folded the cloth and left it on top of Sam's forehead, bringing his hands back to his legs to rest his palms against his knees. Something though, caught Sam's attention...the stain of red against Dean's hands as he moved them rapidly to make it unnoticeable. He knew it was his own body's pain that left a mark against his skin. Dean literally had his brother's blood on his hands, again. With that thought corrupting his thoughts, Sam turned his eyes to look away, ashamed of his pitiful act.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Sorry for what?"

Sam let out a sigh and removed the cloth from his head, sitting up straight and looking it over. The once white soft sheet was now lathered in the same substance which colored both their palms. He tossed the cloth back into the bucket of water beside him and ran a wet hand through his long sweat-coated hair. "I'm sorry for causing a scene back there…I didn't mean to worry you…"

"What are you talking about?" Dean leaned forward in his chair to get a better look at his younger brother, the same hurt and fear in his eyes that Sam didn't get a chance to see hours ago. "You don't need to mean to worry me. I'm your brother, I'll always worry about you."

Those words weren't as calming and reassuring as he wanted them to be. Instead, they stung every last inch of him that still knew there was hope. "That's just it Dean…I don't want you to worry about me. Just like I don't want you to take care of me…"

Instantly, flags were raised. Dean sat up straight and narrowed his brows in both anger and confusion. "So what? You want to handle this by yourself? Sam…you can't even stand up straight, and you want be to believe that you can deal this out alone?" Fighting was the least of their worries, but it defiantly was not necessary at this point in time. Dean couldn't help himself, he got defensive, sensitive, especially over these sorts of things.  
"I've been through worse. You and I both know that. We were tortured; we've been to hell and back. I was thrown into Lucifer's dog bowl. " Sam responded tiredly, trying to keep himself upright. "And I got through all of that just fine."

"Got through it?" Dean slid out of the chair, standing straight with his arms tightly tucked at his sides. "If a mental breakdown is getting through it just fine, then by all means, don't let me help you! Sam, you hallucinated, you needed stitches to tell you what was real and what wasn't. Your second home was the panic room! Oh and not to mention, you saw the Satan as if he was your conjoined by the hip twin sister! If it wasn't for me, you would be buried deep underground!"

"Dean…You've always been there for me, and I'm grateful, I am. But… maybe underground is where I belong. Let me deal with my own demons, and if I die in the process, then maybe I'm better off that way, maybe it means there is no way back this time. But at least I'll die knowing you weren't breaking your back over me for once." Dean just stared at Sam, taking in all that he said, a lot harder than he meant it to be. It's been his responsibility to protect his baby brother since the night Mary burned alive, along with everything else they cared for. Taking a step back wasn't built into that promise. Sam noticed the sudden atmosphere change, looking away from Dean and back down at his own red-tainted hands. "I started the trials, knowing exactly what they would do to me. It's breaking me down, I can see that, I can feel it more than anything…but…" Sam looked back up at the other man with puppy-like eyes. "I have to finish them…You told me we can win this, and we have to. Just trust me, okay? I need you to trust me."

Instead of a simple nod of approval, every cell in Dean's body stopped moving, his blood began to boil. It hit him, those same words that he heard years ago when Ruby was around. The thought made him clench his fists, his knuckles turning a shade of white. He listened to the rain, gazing into Sam's hazel eyes as if watching paint dry. His lips parted to speak, but nothing came out, not even the exhale of a warm breath. The hunter shook his head and angrily bit the inside of his cheek, picking up the duffel bag from the floor beside the bed and storming out of the room. Sam watched him out of curiosity, which soon turned into frustration when his brother walked out the front door. He leaned back on the bed, hands in his hair as he kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. He listened to the rain, the silence, the wind, while he thought about everything he had said to Dean…understanding why it could have baffled him.

* * *

The old desk lamp at Sam's bedside was shut off, something he instantly did without reconciliation before falling asleep. Even If the recent fight he had with Dean left his mind spinning a million thoughts per second, he was too exhausted to keep his eyes from falling shut. Though, after drifting away, he remembered why he hasn't gotten much sleep in the past few weeks. The same reoccurring nightmare played back in Sam's mind over and over again, causing him to toss and turn. He cried out for Dean in his sleep, gripping the sheets beside him as if to find a body there for comfort. His eyes squeezed tightly while every muscle under his skin tensed. He clenched his teeth, hard enough to almost crack them from the pressure. The loudest roll of thunder shook the nightstand, and seconds after, the lamp hit the hard floor, shattering the bulb. Sam eye's snapped open, sitting up fast enough to disorient him. He shut his eyes, being taken aback by dizziness, trying to calm himself with warmth of his backhand pressed against his forehead. "Dean?" was the first word he thought of, questioning if his brother had returned from where he had gone off to. After catching his ability to see straight, Sam stood, making sure to have his balance before taking another step.

The bunker was quiet, with only the hard downpour of rain to break it. Sam saw no sign on his brother's presence, not the sound of his jacket rustling against his under shirt, or that strong musky scent. This worried him, made him think the worst of what could have happened…and looking over at the clock didn't help at all. It was an hour till midnight and Dean hasn't come home. -Home? Funny…neither Sam nor Dean ever thought they would actually ever get the chance to call some place, home. The bunker was more than an underground hideaway from the rest of what humanity had to offer…it was their place of tranquility, their sanctuary, somewhere the Winchesters could say they'll be if everything turns out wrong. So why wasn't Dean home?

Even if the sickness which took over most of his energy had slowed him down, Sam didn't want to sit around and wait when dreadful things could be happening to his older brother. It was second nature, to grab a gun and fight till there isn't a reason to anymore…that's when it hit him. Sam instantly felt like the biggest jerk that ever came to be…His body shook with the need to save Dean from whatever danger he could have gotten himself into, his heart raced a billion miles per hour due to a single 'what If'…He gazed at the floor, remembering all that Dean had told him before journeying off into the rain. _You don't need to mean to worry me. I'm your brother, I'll always worry about you._ _If it wasn't for me, you would be buried deep underground! _Sam tightly gripped the body of his pistol, slipping on his coat as fast as he could. Though, the complete silence was disrupted by the sound of keys raddling… _Dean. _ Sam stood five or so feet away from the door, listening to the key crackle into the slot, the loudest it's ever been. The handle turned and the door pushed open, but, it wasn't exactly what he had expected.

Sam raised his brow in surprise. Before him stood a woman who…actually resembled what his brother would look like as the opposite gender to the T. Her hair was a lighter shade or brown, falling down to her mid-back in beautiful damp waves. Her lashes were dark, thick and long, shading over a pair of big and bright emerald-green eyes. She had a perfect sculptured nose, pink swollen budded lips, a slim but strong body frame, and how Dean would put it, a very nice rack of full D's. Sam noticed that she wore the same clothing that Dean had left wearing…but that wasn't exactly what surprised him. Every freckle across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose matched the same number of freckles Sam counted on Dean's face earlier. That and the inside of her hands were stained red, just as Dean's were after caring for Sam's blood spill. He didn't say a word, not one word to the woman standing in the doorway.

She walked right past Sam as if normal, setting the, what seems to have gotten heavier green duffel bag on the table with a sigh. Her eyes looked back at the tall man, who couldn't help but stare in confusion and disbelief. Was what he thought actually the truth…? This had to be a dream. Sam felt, in every part of his damaged body, that she was, in fact, Dean. The woman licked her bottom lip, unsure of exactly what to say at this point. She sighed once again, shaking her head and raising her hands up in surrender. Sam had a gun, but she wasn't too afraid of. But from the looks of how his body moved, he didn't have much control of his own actions. "I can explain."

"Dean…?" The woman looked back up, as if shocked when hearing that name. Sam didn't think twice about what he had concluded, because he didn't have to. "What the hell…happened to you?" He came closer, standing near but keeping a distant space between them for comfort and personal reasons.

"You…" She stuttered, taking the leather jacket off from her shoulders while keeping her eyes fixed on Sam. A smile of relief came across her beautiful face. She stuck her hand out and wiggled her fingers, having Sam hand her the gun for safety purposes. "I knew you wouldn't confuse me with some whore. "

Sam laughed to himself, looking over Dean from behind, trying not to look where his manly instincts told him to. Of course he does anyway. Her ass was something that would come out of a graphic skin magazine. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head nervously, leaning against the table to watch his 'sister' unpack. "How did this happen?"

"Well." She started, taking out the magazine from one of the gun. She began to slip the remaining silver bullets from the slot, making sure not to leave any unattended. "I went after the witch to blow off steam…turns out she Pinocchio'd me, turned me into a real…girl." She stopped in thought, taking this a lot calmer than any other male in this situation would. "Fairy tales do come true Sammy. I love bosoms so much, that I was blessed with a pair of my very own." Dean placed the gun down on the table, turning back around to face Sam once again. "I'm surprised you didn't silver knife my ass."

"I don't think your…ass needs anything more to it." Dean turn to look at herself from over her own shoulder. She mouthed 'Holy  
Shit' which made Sam shake his head and stare back down at the floor. "Besides, if you weren't you, you wouldn't be able to step two feet past the door." He smirked, looking at the entrance to the bunker, then back towards his sister. "Did the witch say anything."

"Anything like what?" Dean questioned.

"You know. When midnight comes, the princess will become a house maid again…or, give me your voice and I'll give you a pair of legs." Dean raised a brow, staring at the other with the most un-amused expression. After a second of silent 'are you kidding me', she licked her bottom lip again. "Dude."

"Sorry." Sam laughed, not being able to take this situation seriously. "Be grateful she didn't turn you into a toad." He snorted, folding his arms over his chest. Dean rolled her eyes and walked past Sam, making her way into her bedroom. She had her back turned towards the other, him only behind able to see her through the doorway. She removed her shirt, pulling it over her head. Sam widened his eyes as a blush grew across his hallow cheeks.

"Whatever it is, we'll figure it out at dawn. But for now, I'm going to take a long hot bath to experiment." Sam swallowed a bit while watching his half naked sister from behind, not able to actually see anything up close and personal, but just imagining it was enough. He cleared his throat once again, having heard the 'experiment' part and turned away from the sight so the slight bump in his jeans wouldn't be so noticeable.

"Er…right. If you need me, I'll be finding out a way to fix you." Sam replied sheepishly, making his way over to his laptop, opening it back up. Though he just stared at the screen in thought, swallowing one last comment before shaking it off. _It's Dean_…_whatever you're thinking is sick. Bad Sammy…Did I just call myself Sammy?_

* * *

The rain still hasn't stopped, it just kept coming down harder and harder by every passing hour. It was almost one in the morning, and the bunker was playing the same song It always did, quiet. But the feeling in the atmosphere wasn't as dense as it usually was. Sam was still typing away on Google, going through his notes to try and figure out a way to turn Dean back into the man he's always known. He coughed into his hand twice, wiping over his nose and leaning back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to keep his vision from failing him again. That's when it happened.

"S-Sam…" Sure the walls were thin, or she was just loud. Sam's eyes widened when hearing his name come from the bathroom. But it wasn't an ordinary way of saying it… He swallowed, turning his eyes back to the screen, trying to ignore it. He tapped his fingers against the wooden table and bit his bottom lip. But the moaning only grew louder, Dean's voice echoing through every hall, every room. "Ooh Sam…Y-Yeah…" _Is this really happening?!_ Sam shifted his legs, clearing his throat and pulling at the collar of his shirt. He couldn't stop moving, folding his arms, unfolding his arms, tapping his feet, touching his face, drumming the keyboard with his index and middle fingers. All the heat in his body was being restrained by a pair of dark blue jeans, and every bit of him thought he should-_No. That's gross._ Sam let out a calming breath, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Ooh Sammy! M-Make me cum!"

_That's it._ A spark flew in the pit of his stomach. He was on fire, and there was no way of making this puppy sit back down. He rushed towards the bathroom door, stopping inches in front of it. The moaning was as clear as day, but it was even louder to the man whose dick was pulsing with the intense want to fuck his own sister. Sam reached out for the door knob, a hot breath escaping his lips from anticipation. His heart sped, his head was lighter than air-

The cell phone rang in his pocket, making him jump eight feet into the air. He quickly grabbed it out of his pocket to silence it, hurrying back into the main room and sat before his laptop as if he never got up. "Hello?" Garth was on the other line, discussing some things about the witch he was asked to look up for Sam a half hour ago. But all the hunter was really focused on was how horny he was. It was hard to talk to Garth from how badly his voice shook, but he blamed it on the coughing fits and fever. Before Sam could type another word, his fingers stopped, feeling a pair of eyes gazing upon him. He didn't look up, but he knew who was in the doorway. "Right. Thanks Garth. Yeah. You too." He pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the 'end call' button on the lower left hand side. Sam let out a long breath before finally lifting his eyes. There was Dean, wearing nothing but one of Sam's plaid shirts that reached down to a little above her knees. She had the first four buttons undone to expose her cleavage and deep collar bone. Her dry hair was pulled up into a messy bun, hair falling out from the back and the sides to frame her perfect face. Dean leaned against the wooden door frame, folding her arms over her chest. She smirked, having listened to Sam's entire conversation with Garth.

"Any hope for me?" Dean looked away, watching the light flicker from the heavy pour of rain messing with their electricity.

"Uh…y-yeah, actually." Sam turned his attention back towards his computer screen, pulling up some things he was told to read over about this sort of witch hunt. He was trying hard to get passed what he had heard and how badly he wanted to hear more. "Garth said that these types of witches don't exactly punish you by changing something in your life. They actually work their magic by reading the victim's mind. They search you to find something you want to change, whether it be about you or someone else." Sam looked back up at Dean in confusion. "Wait…you asked for this?"

_"_Not exactly." Dean lifted herself off from the wall, placing her arms back down at her sides. "I was thinking about ways to get you to listen to me…and I guess being a girl is one way to get through to you. Do you like feminist rants or something?" Sam chuckled in amusement, looking down at his keyboard while listening to the sound of her soothing voice. His smile soon faded into a frown, recalling the argument from hours ago.

"Listen…Dean-"

"You don't have to apologize." Dean sighed, leaning against the table, not making eye contact with her brother. "You're right. I shouldn't baby you…I guess watching over you is all there is left for me to look forward to. The world is ending, everyone around us is dead or dying…You can't really blame me for keeping my guard up."

"No. Dean." Sam leaned back in his chair, his hands on his lap and his eyes fixed somewhere other than on her. "I get it. I do. When you didn't come home, I was about to shoot the next thing that moved because of how worried I was about you. So I get it, and really, I don't mind it. You can worry about me all you want, only if you let me worry about you too." His words made her smile. She gained the courage to turn her attention back towards Sam, looking him over with those brilliant eyes.

"Will you let me take care of you?"

"Obviously, I can't take care of myself."

Dean took a few steps forward until she stood between Sam's parted legs. Her small porcelain hand reached for the laptop, pressing her palm against the back of the screen and pushed it closed. The sound of his computer clicking shut caused him to look up, meeting her eyes in an instant. Dean placed her hands on top of Sam's cold ones. Her touch was warm, gentle, just as it would be if she was still a man. She leaned down further and further until their faces were only three or so inches apart. Sam didn't protest, he didn't have to. Instead, he looked down at her lips, then back up into her eyes as if asking permission. He knew it wrong, that this was a sort of taboo which should never be played with…but he didn't care, not tonight. It's been almost a year since either one of them has had any close connection with anyone in such a way, and it was time to take a chance and risk it all.

"I don't know why…but I really want to kiss you right now." She whispered against his lips, only millimeters away from what they have both been craving. Sam chuckled, lowering his lids just enough to continue to watch her eyes glow.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah…"

"Well…I don't know why but, I really want to hear you say my name again…"

Sam closed his eyes, placing a large hand on the side of her face to pull her forward, closing the space between them. Their lips touched, sweetly, passionately, hungrily longing for the others affection. With their head tilted to their right, the kiss deepened within every breath that escaped their parted lips. It didn't take rocket science to figure out how fast their tongues took to touch. In an instant, the heat from Dean's newly changed body transferred into Sam's, warming him from inside out, melting the ice from his bones. This is what he needed. Hell, this is what they both needed. Even if they were related, or if Dean was really a man on the inside... right now they were lovers, starved for appreciation and pleasure, and nothing else seemed to matter. Sam wrapped his arms around his sister's perfect body, pulling her down to straddle his lap. Dean tangled a hand in his long brown locks, skimming her fingers through it and clenching it whenever the sensation became overwhelming. She tasted the bitter-sweet intensity of the blood he's been coughing up, but it didn't bother her, not even a little. Sam caught onto the taste of whiskey, but it's exactly how he'd imagined it be.

Their tongues slid and danced together to the tango of desire. The temperature in the room rose to above eighty, and wearing cloths seemed like too much of a load to carry. Dean moved her hands down to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as she could, wanting to get it off and onto the floor. He shifted his arms so that she could slip it off, hearing the cloth land somewhere on the other side of the table. Dean rolled her hips, grinding against her brother to excite him even more than he already was. Sam knew, that under his shirt, she wasn't wearing a thing, and that was enough to send him through the roof. He sucked on her bottom lip, lifting his hand up to loosen her tied up hair, causing it all to come down and fall against her shoulders and back in bouncy waves. The thunder rumbled loudly, as if warning them to stop…but they didn't, and it wasn't ever going to cross their minds. Dean's long fingers roamed down Sam's muscular chest, feeling every bit of him that she could. Her breath hitched when feeling the other man's fingers take apart the buttons of the large shirt she wore, desperately wanting to know what it was like underneath. Sam broke the kiss when reaching the last two buttons, staring down at his hands in frustration at how suddenly difficult undoing his own shirt was. Once finished, he ripped it down her arms, leaving it to hang off her elbows. He looked over the perfection of her body…how angelic she really was. Sam narrowed his brow, sticking his face between her large breasts, leaving a trail of kisses up to her collar bone. Dean let out a moan of approval, leaning back and pushing herself up off her heels so her brother didn't have to strain himself when reaching where he wanted. She gripped his hair tightly so she wouldn't fall, but not enough to cause discomfort. One of Sam's hands supported her back to keep her up right, while the other rested against her lower half, dangerously close to where she wanted it to be.

Sam gave both of her breasts attention, before sliding his tongue down the middle of her body as to cut her in half. Dean used the fist full of hair up pull his head back up, catching his lips in yet another strong hungry animalistic kiss. His hand was pressed against her thigh, the distance causing her lower region to throb with want. Her hands were on his shoulders, once in a while squeezing and rubbing them when the teasing became too much for her to handle. She wanted to be touched. Now. Sam slid his hand up half an inch, turning his fingers so that skin finally met skin. Dean moaned into the other hunter's mouth, loving the feeling of Sam's fingers rubbing against the most sensitive button her body had to offer. The younger Winchester broke the contact between their lips and started at her neck, leaving his mark against her flawless skin, claiming her for himself and no one else. Dean's hands trailed down his strong built body, finding their way between them and to his belt. She didn't take any moment for hesitation, and instead just unfastened the brown leather belt, slipping it out from the loops and throwing it where his shirt had landed. Sam stuck a finger into her, rubbing his digit against the silk-like walls, familiarizing himself with it before adding a second one. Dean hung her head forward against his shoulder, using a shaky breath to moan out the hunter's name, just like he wanted. She unbuttoned and unzipped Sam's restraining jeans, stuffing her hand into his boxers to cup over his folded hardened member, using the tips of her fingers to skim up the side the best she could. Sam's breath hitched, moaning softly against Dean's neck. Oh how he wanted her…

Sam removed his hand from inside of her, catching her lips in yet another passionate kiss. He used his strong arms to lift her body just enough for him to slide off whatever clothes he had left. Sam kicked the jeans away from his feet, spreading his legs a bit more than they were before looking back up at her. Dean smiled at him, placing her hand on the side of his face. No one, not even Jess made him feel this way, made him crave the way the woman sitting on top his lap did. Even if this woman was really a man, and if this man was really his brother…it still meant the same thing, had the same effect. Sam smiled back up at her, gently pressing his lips to hers in a soothing manner. It took everything in him not to buck up and screw her senseless by how his body has been reacting to the sudden change in mood. Instead, he slid his hands down her sides until he was able to take hold of her hips. Dean was guided down onto Sam's large length, letting in a sharp breath when the head broke through. She pushed down, settling herself onto him, taking him all the way in as deep as she possibly could. Only moments later, he began to thrust up into her, not too fast but not agonizingly slow. Her hands slid down his shoulders and back up his chest to caress the sides of his neck. Dean body rocked in time with Sam's, loving every second of their close connection. She dragged her nails down his shoulder blades, leaving behind pleasure inflicted marks of her own for him to find in the morning.

"S-Sam…Sammy…"

"Dean…"

The heat was unbearable, something Sam wouldn't think he would be able to feel from how cold everything seemed to be. Her legs started to feel worn out from how much pressure her body was putting down on them. Sam noticed her change in rhythm and wrapped those strong muscular arms around her model-like body, standing up. They were still connection, her legs wrapped around his waist and fingers clawing at his shoulders. He took a few steps forward, gently laying her down on the table so she wouldn't hit her head. Dean laughed from the sudden position change, folding her arms beside her body and laying the backs of her hands against the wooden table beside her face. Sam held onto her knees, using them as a balancer to steady himself. He started to move his hips again, but picking up the pace. He held back the urge to break out into a coughing fit, doing his all to make sure nothing ruins a perfect moment that could never happen again. Both their orgasms were reaching fast, and Sam could tell by how Dean's insides clenched tighter with every thrust. The truth is, she didn't like having Sam's body so far from her own, and the way they were now wasn't as loving as before. Dean lifted her arms like a child would when wanting to be held. Sam warmly smiled, stopping his movement to lean forward and hover over his sister, pressing their bodies together. Dean took hold of his upper-arms, rocking with him when they started to move together again. Every moan that rolled off her tongue drew him closer and closer to release. Her breath mixing with his from their faces being so close.

"Oooh God…Sam, I'm almost there." Dean's voice grew louder, echoing through the bunker just to bounce off the walls in full stereo. The younger hunter groaned, the pitch of his tone matching his sister's exactly. They were on the same page. The pattern in her breathing changed, it got faster, and so did his. "I-I'm c-cu-Ooh Sam!" Sam leaned his upper body down to meet her chest, burying his face between her neck and shoulder to silence a moan he couldn't help but let out. Dean tightly held onto his arm, her other hand tangled with his hair like so many times before. It was a comfort to be able to touch him this way. Not even a half a minute later, their movements came to a standstill, their orgasms powerful enough to make their entire body shake with pleasure. Sam spilled every last drop into her warm heat, knowing it wouldn't do any damage what so ever. Dean tried to catch her breath, lightly stroking the back of the other man's head to relax them both. Though her eyes widened when feeling a warm liquid against her shoulder…she parted her lips to let out a slow terrified breath. The sound of Sam's cough right against her ear. Dean's lip quivered as tears welled up in her eyes, her shaken hand holding onto the back of his head protectively. The huntress closed her eyes tightly, wrapping her arm around her brother's body, letting out a light sob into his hair.

* * *

Rain was everything to the Winchesters…it had been there for the better, and for the worst…When the wind wasn't enough to keep an awkward silence from ruining what could be one of the best moments in their entire lives. It took a lot of strength but, Dean moved Sam all the way to his room and laid him down on his bed. She even cleaned up the blood from his chin and fixed his messy hair. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes became hours…the stunt Sam and Dean pulled was enough to finally get him to sleep through the rest of the night. When morning came, the sound of the rain was like the memory of last night, gone. Sam stirred, turning every which way from the nightmares that never seemed to stop bothering him. Like always, his hand reached for a way to make it through another minute…but this time, he felt something, someone. Sam opened his eyes when the tips of his fingers touched the warmth of his brother's skin. His brother? Yes. During the early morning, Dean found the hex bag in his jacket pocket and took it apart, burning it in the fire place before heading back to sleep in Sam's bed. Sure he wasn't a woman anymore…but gender doesn't mean anything when the passion between two individuals is so strong.

Sam gently ran his fingertips up Dean's spine, reaching his shoulder and gliding his palm down his soft bare arm. He scooted forward and wrapped his arm around his brother, kissing the back of his neck and closing his eyes. So what if he did die when the trials were over and done with? At least he'll die knowing how much Dean actually cares about him.

* * *

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